


I'll Never Be What You See Inside

by starlight_starbright



Series: the sun and the black hole [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Arguments, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Depression, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Hurt!Steve, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Nightmares, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Revenge, Self Loathing, Sputnik, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, True Love, aka running from hyrda, and of course steve uses coconut bodywash, bucky is bad at expressing himself, bucky is confused about life, happy endings, hurt!bucky, kind of, marriage proposals, natasha and Bucky are bffs, of course bucky watches svu, romantic getaways, steve is blood thirsty, supportive Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 16:44:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6017029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_starbright/pseuds/starlight_starbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Barnes has blood on his hands.</p><p>James Barnes has killed hundreds of people.</p><p>James Barnes is a monster.</p><p>Or at least, that's what HYDRA made him. Natasha says that he can be something different, that he can be good again, but how can he be good again when Steve was all the good he had?</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Never Be What You See Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day!
> 
> Title from Twenty-one Pilots.

James Barnes has blood on his hands. 

James Barnes has killed hundreds of people.

James Barnes is a monster.

Or at least, that's what HYDRA made him. Natasha says that he can be something different, that he can be good again, but how can he be good again when Steve was all the good he had?

Bucky can't remember a time when Steve wasn't there. All of his fondest memories are with Steve and he doesn't really know what to do without him. It'd been strange, being in this new century without his best friend, dealing with everything he'd been through without his Stevie by his side, but he had no choice.

Until now.

When they'd saved Bucky, Natasha had told him Steve was dead. That he'd put the Valkyrie into the ice and went down with it. Bucky had been so angry at him for the longest time. For three years, Bucky had been angry with Steve for leaving him alone in this new world. Alone to figure everything out by himself. For leaving him behind, for dying. For making Bucky go this alone.

Because Steve is the only one that would understand where Bucky comes from. He's the only one that really knows Bucky, inside and out.

It's not like Bucky doesn't have friends. He does now—the Avengers. They're kind of like a team, Earth's mightiest heroes and all that. They've been good to him, especially Natasha. She's helped him through a lot. Fury  knew she was the best choice to help him get his memories back. After all, she'd been through it and come out on the other side as one of the good guys.

She says to focus on the good he remembers. The good memories with  Steve and his unit. She also says to make new memories.

"Go out," she'd say. "See the world as it is now. Make friends, be a part of the team. We'd love to have you." And seeing as Natasha was his only friend at the time, he listened. And now he's friends with all of them—Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce, Thor, and Pepper. It's a strange feeling, that—having friends other than Steve.

But now, he has the chance to have Steve again.

Because here he is in this stupid forties themed hospital room—Fury's idea, obviously—waiting for Steve to wake up. SHIELD thought it would be a good idea for Steve to wake up to something familiar, but Bucky knows he won't appreciate it, so he turns the radio playing an old baseball game off and sits in the chair next to Steve's bed. He's thin, a lot thinner than Bucky remembers, but he's still Bucky's Stevie. Same blond hair and pale skin and long eyelashes. The doctors said there might be some retrograde amnesia when he wakes up, but that it shouldn't last long with the serum working to fix it.

Bucky is pleading with every god that exists for Steve to remember him. For Steve to open those blue eyes and feel the same way he did before Bucky fell off the train. 

For Steve to still love him. For Steve to accept him for who he is now. For Steve to look at him and know that Bucky Barnes is still in there, that even though he has a metal arm and his hair is longer and he's changed, that he's still Bucky. 

He's not the same, not by a long shot, but he's hoping Steve can accept the differences.

Hoping that Steve will still want him.

-

2009

The day SHIELD rescued the Asset from HYDRA, the Asset had complexly shut down. For one hundred days, nine hours, eight minutes, and fifty-seven seconds the Asset did not speak to anyone. He sat on the bed in the small cell and stared at the wall, counting the seconds, minutes, hours. He slept every thirty-two hours for exactly twelve hours. He drank the solution his captors gave him, and he used the restroom every seven hours.

Natalia Romanova visited him every day. She would sit with him in silence for two hours, just waiting.

And then it happened—the pieces clicked, and the Asset melted into James Barnes.

He cried for two hours, seven minutes, and twenty-one seconds. He cried into Natalia's arms, until his afternoon meal arrived—now, instead of the liquid, replaced with solid food. Natalia told him stories while he ate. Stories about bad people and mind control and abuse. Stories, it turns out, that Natalia lived.

Horror stories about sterilisation and ballet and murder. Things that James knew happened to him, too. Missions and assassinations and hate. Rage and envy and death. James is angry for her, for the things that happened to her. The stories made James sick, made him want to rip Natalia's handlers apart. Rip his own handlers apart. 

And she said that Steve—Steve!—was dead.

And that's when James Barnes gave up.

- 

2011

"Where am I?" Steve mumbles, eyes darting around the room. Bucky jumps when Steve's voice pierces the quiet in the room. He's awake. He's finally awake.

"You're in the hospital," Bucky says gently, putting his flesh hand on Steve's arm. Steve's gaze snaps to his face, and his expression becomes confused.

"Bucky?" Steve murmurs. Bucky squeezes Steve's arm and smiles. He doesn't even know where to start. 

"Yeah, Stevie. It's me." Bucky is hopeful, but he knows Steve will be confused. That Bucky will have to sit him down and explain everything to him, leaving nothing out. He's not exactly looking forward to it.

"You died," Steve whispers. "You fell off a train and then I killed the Red Skull and . . ." Steve trailed off, and his eyes rake down his body. "And I died," he finishes, looking up at Bucky. He's confused, and rightfully so.

And so Bucky sets in on the story, all the while holding onto Steve's arm. He explains what happened to Steve first, and then what happened to himself. Bucky watches as Steve gets angrier and angrier until his face is set in stone and Bucky is stumbling over his words. 

He tries to explain what happened to himself, what HYDRA made him and who he is now and Steve's eyes lock onto his arm. Bucky tells him that he lost it in the fall, that this is what HYDRA gave him, what made him a weapon. He can see Steve clench his fists, grit his teeth. Bucky doesn't blame him, he'd be disgusted with himself, too.

He tells Steve the last bit about finding him in the ice and then goes silent. 

-

2009 

James Barnes remembered everything.

Before the war, he remembered Steve. He remembered patching Steve up and cleaning blood off of pale skin. He remembered fear during the night when the blond had pneumonia—rattling, wet coughs and a concave chest heaving, struggling to breathe. He remembered that Steve was an artist, that he'd drawn Bucky most often. He remembered that he loved Steve.

During the war, he remembered being captured and experimented on. He remembered Steve coming and rescuing him, how much bigger he was. He remembered Steve telling him about the serum and the USO tours. He remembered destroying HYDRA bases and sleeping next to Steve every night. He remembered when the Commandos figured out Bucky and Steve were sleeping together and he remembered that they didn't care. He remembered falling off of the train and the pain and losing his arm.

After the war, he remembered being wiped and frozen and wiped and frozen until they'd burned almost all of Bucky Barnes out of him. The remaining parts of Bucky Barnes had found refuge in the recess of the Asset's mind, screaming at him that the things he was doing were wrong. He remembered the Asset not caring, doing what his handlers told him anyway. He remembered the pain his handlers would inflict on the Asset if he didn't do what they said. He remembered abuse—sexual and physical.

The memories flooded back all at once, plaguing him with nightmares and confusion and questions. His timeline was all jumbled up and tangled. He didn't understand why Steve wasn't there, why Steve hadn't come see him. And that was when Natalia told him once again that his Stevie was dead. That his little Stevie, his best guy, had died saving the world. 

James Barnes cried. He cried for lost time, for the horrible things he'd done, for his Stevie who died thinking he was dead. 

-

2011 

As it turns out, Steve wasn't angry at him, but for him. He crushes Bucky to his chest, holding him as close as he can possibly get, trembling. Bucky just climbs onto the bed next to him and tangles their limbs together, more like one person than two.

That's what they've always been. One.

Fury has given Bucky clearance to be Steve's personal security. Fury knows the essence of their relationship, but not the details. No one knows the details save Natalia. Fury has instructed Bucky to convince Steve to join the Avengers, but that's the last thing on his mind as he brings Steve into his apartment.

Because Steve's art is all over the walls. Anything Bucky could get back from the Smithsonian, he did—sketchbooks, pictures, even the blanket that Steve's Ma made him for Christmas when they were kids.

His apartment is huge—big glass windows and an open floor plan. He's got two bedrooms and two baths and no one to share it with. He hopes Steve will stay.

"You should probably sleep some more," Bucky says after he's given Steve the tour. "You need to recover." The blond looks lost, so Bucky leads him into his room and hands Steve a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. And instead of taking both, Steve only takes the pants and wanders into the bathroom.

While Steve is in the shower, Bucky sits on the bed and worries. Worries about what Steve wants, about what Steve will think when he finds out all Bucky's done. And since Steve's always taken quick showers, he only has about ten minutes to worry before Steve is back, shirtless and in Bucky's pants.

He's breathtaking. 

"That's a good look," Bucky says, but the joke falls flat. Steve makes a face and then climbs into the bed.

"Will you stay?" Steve asks. "I just . . . I _need_ . . ." But Bucky gets it, so he climbs in beside Steve and pulls him into his arms. His skin is just as soft as Bucky remembers.

"Of course I'll stay, Stevie." He knows that the blond is still disoriented. He needs an anchor, and Bucky has always been that for him. There's a pause, and then Steve looks up at him.

"Can I ask you a question?" When Bucky nods, Steve looks down and his cheeks turn pink. "I still love you," he whispers, and Bucky stiffens. No, he's not ready to deal with this now. He can't— 

"That's not a question," Bucky breathes. 

"I guess it's not," Steve says, like he has his answer to his unspoken question. And Bucky can't stand that. He wants to scream from the rooftops that he loves this man. He wants to tell everyone he meets. He wants to walk down the street hand-in-hand with Steve and stare down anyone who looks at them. _He's mine, can't you see? He chose_ me _._  

"Love you back, punk," Bucky murmurs. It's all he can do. He's never lied to Steve, and he's not going to start now.

"Jerk," Steve whispers, nuzzling into Bucky's neck and breathing deeply. Bucky is sleepy and content and he has his Stevie in his arms for the first time in seventy years, so he allows himself to sleep.

-

2010

James Barnes went outside today. Natalia took him outside to see the sky and the sun and all the things he had missed. She took him to go see someone named Nick Fury. She said that Fury is the one who authorised the mission to free him. James Barnes is grateful for that.

Nick Fury said that James could become an agent for SHIELD—that he'd been working on something called the Avengers Initiative. Fury said that he wants James on board.

James said yes. He was ready to use his skill set for the good guys, for those willing to restore peace.

He was ready to wipe the red out of his ledger.

-

2011

Steve is awake when Bucky wakes up. And then Bucky realises that Steve's the one who woke him up.

The blond is crying softly, curled in on himself and shaking. Bucky reacts immediately, wrapping himself around Steve and pulling him close, making sure that Steve has something to hold on to.

"Breathe, Stevie," Bucky murmurs. "Deep breaths. That's good, baby. Just breathe." And Steve's breaths come deeper, more even, and that's when Bucky pulls away to look at Steve's face. "Nightmares?" he guesses. 

"You fell off a train," Steve whispers. "I saw you fall off a train. I saw you fall to your death and then I _grieved_ you. To you it's a long time ago, but to me, it's yesterday." And Bucky's heart breaks all over again. He didn't even think about that. Didn't even think past his own problems to think about how all of this might be affecting Steve.

"I'm right here," he soothes, pulling Steve closer and wipes away the tears. "I'm right here and you're here and we're both okay. We made it, Stevie. We won the war and we're okay." Bucky continues talking until Steve quiets, until the blond stills in his arms and looks up at him with those big blue eyes. Bucky is drawn to his mouth, the perfect curve and the softness that he remembers. 

So he gives in and kisses Steve. Slowly, carefully, just a brush of lips until Steve reaches up and deepens it.

Now normally, Bucky would be okay with this. But Steve has the right to know what Bucky's done. He needs all of the information before he decides whether or not to get involved with Bucky again.

"Wait," Bucky mutters, and Steve pulls away.

"I'm sorry," Steve stammers. "I didn't—"

"Not stop," Bucky clarifies. "Just . . . wait. There's something I need to tell you." And Steve is looking at him like he already knows what Bucky is going to say. And Steve doesn't want him to say it.

" _Buck_ ," he murmurs, pleading. "Don't."

"I've killed so many people," Bucky whispers. 

"Bucky—" 

"No, Steve," Bucky insists. "If we're going to do this, you need to know. I've killed so many people. I have so much blood on my hands and I can't ever take that back. I have a fucking metal arm as a reminder. I'm not who I used to be. I'm not . . . good." 

And then Steve laughs. Actually laughs, face scrunched up, head thrown back laughter. Bucky just stares at him because what part of that was funny? 

"You think I won't love you because HYDRA made you hurt people?" Steve asks after he calms down. "You're crazy if you think I'd leave you because of that. You _are_ good, Buck. You're working with SHIELD and you're working to right your wrongs. You're on the right side and you're trying to fix things. That doesn't sound bad to me." Frustrated, Bucky pulls away and gets up, walking towards the door and then spinning around and walking back.

"You don't get it," he says lowly. "You don't understand what they made me do. What they did to me." Bucky watches as Steve gets up and comes over to him.

"Natasha gave me your file," Steve says, and Bucky just stares at him. Because Natasha had no right to do that. None. "And I read it. I know what they did to you. I know what they made you do. And all of it is awful and I want to kill all of them. I want to . . ." he trails off, composing himself as Bucky watches helplessly. Steve knows. He knows and he's still here. "I love you," he starts again. "And nothing will ever make me not love you. We got a second chance, Buck. A chance to help people, to be different and work with other people like us."

"But, Steve—" 

"You're a good man, Bucky," Steve continues, ignoring him. "I know that. And you've always taken care of me. You've always protected me. I see you, Buck. I see the good in you even when you don't." And Bucky has nothing to say, completely amazed by Steve. Steve has always seen the good in everyone, but this is different. Steve is choosing to look past what Bucky's done, to see the man Bucky once was and the man he's trying to be and piecing them together to form the man that Bucky will be, the man he doesn't think he can be. But Steve believes he can, and Steve believes enough for both of them. 

"I fucking love you," Bucky says, pulling Steve in and kissing him again. Steve pulls away only to pull Bucky back down on the bed, tangling their legs together and cuddling in close to kiss him again. It's warm here, safe. Bucky never thought he would have this again and now he does and he feels like his heart is going to crack with happiness. 

-

2010

James Barnes no longer kills innocents. 

James Barnes no longer kills children. 

James Barnes no longer ignores civilian casualties.

Natalia—Natasha, as she's called now—taught him how to reprogram his brain. How to take back what HYDRA had stolen and become more of a person than a machine.

She taught him that the pang in his heart when he sees a homeless person on the street is empathy. That the bubbling in his blood when he thinks about his handlers is rage. That the cloud covering his every move is depression. She taught him emotions and he learned to smile again. She taught him social cues and he learned to laugh again. She taught him how to love and he missed Steve more than ever. 

Natasha has only ever been like a sister to James. She's beautiful, but he only has eyes for Steve. And Steve is gone.

It was strange, being trained by the person he trained a lifetime ago, but it was helping. So he trained with Natasha, learned with Natasha. He met the others and he got to know them and, eventually, he made friends of them. He liked Clint best—the accident-prone, deaf archer who was the first to attempt to befriend him. He liked Tony alright—as much as he can like the son of Howard Stark, a man he'd murdered.

But Tony knew that already. He'd known it wasn't an accident and he'd done some digging, coming up with the code name Winter Soldier. And that was what they called him, what they still call him.

Tony said he doesn't blame him, that it wasn't his fault that HYDRA made him do it. Tony said that he forgives him, that it doesn't have to affect how they work together.

And James Barnes hoped that maybe the team might be his ticket to redemption. 

-

2011

Bucky has woken up and gone to sleep next to Steve for six months now. He feels safe and loved and wanted. But he's confused, too. Nothing has happened. Sexually. And Bucky wants it to, God does he want it to. But maybe Steve doesn't want to. Maybe Steve doesn't want to get involved like that. 

He's terrified that Steve will wake up one day and see Bucky for the monster he knows he is. Bucky comes with a lot of baggage—depression, anxiety, PTSD—he doesn't know if Steve will want to be around that all the time. Steve likes to tell him that he's not alone in that, that he has issues too, but Steve is a whole hell of a lot better at hiding things. Bucky's never been good at that; he's always had a very expressive face. He wears his heart on his sleeve and his emotions crash over him like waves.

He thinks that maybe this is too good to be true. He's had the thought once or twice that maybe he's still in cryo, that this is just a scarily realistic dream that his brain has come up with as a way to deal with the trauma.

But then he touches Steve, looks into his eyes and he knows. This is real, Steve is here, Steve is just in the other room making dinner. He can hear Steve quietly singing along to the music he has on.

Because if this really were a dream, he likes to believe he would come up with something less painful. Less nightmares, less hurt, less self-loathing. 

"Dinner's ready!" Steve calls from the kitchen, and Bucky can't help but grin. Steve had said he was going to do something special. Steve had made him go and take a shower and lay down and relax while he put everything together. So Bucky hops off the bed and goes out into the kitchen. The table it set up with two plates and a candle in the middle. There's steak and potatoes and Bucky stops.

It's what they did on special occasions back in the thirties. 

"Steve," Bucky whispers, walking over to his boyfriend. Steve just smiles Bucky's favourite smile—love personified in perfect lips and bright blue eyes.

"Come sit down," Steve says, gesturing to one of the chairs. So Bucky does, and Steve sits opposite of him. "I know you used to like your steak medium well, so that's what I did. If you don't like it, you can tell me. I—"

"Steve, stop," Bucky interrupts, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "This is perfect. _You're_ perfect." Face turning pink, Steve looks down and smiles a bit. When Steve looks back up, Bucky squeezes his hand and they eat.

It's good. Better than anything Bucky's had in a while and that has everything to do with the fact that Steve is here and he made it and that this is special. It's their special meal, and it's only for them. And Steve will never know how much this means to Bucky.

After they eat, Bucky helps Steve clean up. They wash their dishes in silence—hand washed, of course—occasionally bumping hips and grinning at each other. It's good. It's so good and Bucky wishes he could live in this moment forever.

Because no matter how happy Steve's meal made him, he's still having one of his bad days.

One of the days where all Bucky can think is how bad he is for Steve. How Steve will eventually realise Bucky is more than he bargained for. Steve will realise one day that Bucky truly is a monster. Steve will watch him during a fight and see how cold Bucky gets, how methodically he kills people, and leave.

Because Steve is the sun and Bucky is a black hole.

And he doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to taint Steve, to take all that goodness and make it something disgusting. 

"Buck?" Steve asks. Bucky comes back to reality and realised his hands have stilled their drying. He's just holding the plate, cloth still on the counter. And Steve is looking at him intently, trying to figure out what's wrong.

"Sorry," Bucky mumbles, grabbing the cloth and drying the plate.

"What is it?" Steve asks. Bucky really doesn't want to have this conversation right now, or ever. 

"It's nothing, Steve," Bucky tries. Steve isn't convinced.

"No dice, Buck. Something's bothering you." Steve puts a hand on Bucky's shoulder and looks at him closer, blue eyes troubled. "You can talk to me." 

"I'm afraid you're going to leave," Bucky finally says. "I'm afraid you're going to wake up one day and see me for what I am and decide it's too much for you." There's a pause, and Bucky doesn't dare look up.

"You think I'm going to leave?" Steve asks, bewildered. "Look at me," he orders, and Bucky looks up. Steve's face is all kinds of hurt, and that's the last thing Bucky wanted. This is what Bucky'd been trying to avoid—hurting Steve. But it seems no matter what he does, Bucky is causing Steve pain. "I'm not gonna leave you, Buck. Do you really think so little of me?"

"You know what I've done, but I'm not sure you've fully grasped the scope of it," Bucky says. "What if I'd killed Peggy?" They'd just recently visited Peggy in her retirement home. It'd been hard for Bucky, looking her in the eye after all of the SSR agents he'd killed. After he'd killed Howard Stark.

"But you didn't," Steve insists.

"But I could have. She's exactly the type of person HYDRA wanted gone. You keep saying that it wasn't me, but it was. The Winter Soldier is a part of me. He always will be. I can control him now, but he'll always be there. I use that training every time I go on mission for SHIELD." Bucky pulls away from Steve and walks away toward the living room couch. He leans against the back of it, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "If you had been alive, they would've made me kill you, too," he says quietly.

"But I wasn't," Steve says gently. "And you didn't. You wouldn't have hurt me even if I was." And Bucky appreciates that Steve has so much faith in him, but he can't stand Steve being nice right now. Steve should be furious with him. He should hate Bucky. 

"That doesn't matter, Steve!" Bucky yells. "It _could_ have. I might as well have killed you, anyway. You think I don't know why you put the Valkyrie down in the ice instead of trying to find another way out of it?" Steve finishes drying his hands before throwing the cloth on the counter and coming over towards Bucky.

"Not everything is about you," Steve says coldly. Steve is angry now. Good. He should be. "My world doesn't revolve around you." And that hurts, because Bucky's world revolves around Steve.

"But this was," Bucky says. "This was about me. You blamed yourself for what happened to me and you killed yourself for it. For me. You died and I turned into a murderer. If I were anyone else, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If I were anyone else, you wouldn't still be here." Coming closer, Steve stops just a few feet from Bucky.

"Yes, you killed a lot of people," Steve says quietly. "You did a lot of things, but if you were in your right mind, would you have done them?" It's rhetorical, but Bucky still opens his mouth to respond. "Shut the fuck up for a minute," Steve hisses. "Let me talk. If you were who you are now, or who you were before the war, would you have done what HYDRA made you do willingly? No. You wouldn't have. I know that for a fact. But even if you had . . . I'd still love you. I'd still stick around. I can't live without you, Buck. I don't think I know how. You've been my life for so long. You're the love of my life." Steve takes a step closer. "I read the file. I'd've left already if I was going to." And Steve looks so sincere, so genuine, that Bucky almost believes him.

Almost.

"You read the file? I have the memories! I lived that shit, Steve. You don't know the half of it." He can feel himself getting mad. Steve thinks he knows but he doesn't. And he has no right to talk about shit he doesn't know anything about. If Bucky hates one thing, it's people acting like they know your issues better than you.

"I know, Bucky. I—"

"You _don't_ know, Steve!" Bucky argues. And he's mad now. "You don't know anything about me! You come out of the ice and you're still the same. Time has passed and everything around you is different, but you're the same. I'm a completely different person. I'm a murderer. I've killed children just because they were in the way. I killed Howard Stark. I would've killed you!" Bucky's chest is heaving, breath leaving his chest like it's been punched out of him. "I'm no good for you, Stevie. I wish I was, but I'm not. You don't know me anymore and you wouldn't be here if you did." Bucky finally stops talking and realises that Steve has backed up to the breakfast bar.

He's gripping at the dog tags around his neck—Bucky's dog tags—where they've been since the war. He looks hurt, confused, angry. Bucky gave him those tags when Steve gave his to Bucky. They promised to always find each other, always love each other, always fight for each other. No matter what.

Bucky's heart twinges, but he doesn't take the words back.

They look at each other for a moment, neither of them saying anything or attempting to move. Bucky watches as Steve's face goes from hurt and angry to completely blank. Almost lifeless—void of all emotion like he's trying to contain himself. Bucky's never seen him like this before, and he knows he's fucked up. 

"I think I'm going to go," Steve says, and Bucky's heart breaks. Steve is completely expressionless, gathering his wallet, his phone, and his keys. "I'm gonna go. Don't wait up."

And just like that, he's gone.

-

2010

James Barnes remembered. He had dreams every night of his Stevie with blond hair and blue eyes like the sky. He missed his Stevie will all of his heart, and he vowed that he would never love another. Not the girls that hit on him at bars, not the guys that wink at him on the streets, not the SHIELD agents that try to ask him out on a near daily basis.

Because he promised his Stevie he would always love him.

And James Barnes always keeps his promises.

-

2011

Steve has been gone for exactly four hours when his key turns the lock to the front door. Bucky doesn't even get up from where he is on their bed, face pushed into Steve's pillow. His face is hot and his cheeks are wet with tears. He doesn't want Steve to see him like this. And he's lucky—Steve doesn't come into their room. Bucky can hear Steve bustling around the kitchen, the sound of bags being put on the table and groceries being put away.

He couldn't have spent four hours at the grocery store, though. He had to have gone somewhere else. Maybe to the tower to hang out with Natasha and Clint, who have become Steve's closest friends. Maybe the park to run.

Maybe out looking for someone else. 

And while Bucky knows in his heart that Steve wouldn't do that to him, Bucky's mind takes off with the idea and he starts to hyperventilate. It makes him sick to think that Steve could have been touching someone else, kissing someone else. It makes him sick to think of someone other than himself being with Steve.

Bucky doesn't know what he was doing, but he's glad Steve came home.

Bucky was starting to think he wasn't going to.

Ten minutes later, Steve comes and leans against the doorframe, all long legs and strong shoulders and soft eyes that say more than words ever could.

"I'm sorry," Steve says quietly, still watching Bucky. "I shouldn't assume I know what you went through. And you're right, you're not the same person I knew." Steve goes quiet for a second, and Bucky's heart shatters in the silence. "You're not the same, but I'll always love you." And Bucky's heart pieces itself back together as Steve moves to sit on the edge of the mattress, still looking at Bucky. "You're so brave," he whispers. "And you've been through so much. You don't have to be alone anymore." And he's so genuine that Bucky believes him this time. Believes that Steve is here to stay, that he loves him. Steve cups Bucky's jaw with his hand and wipes away the tears there. 

"Steve, I'm—" 

"Shh," Steve whispers. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or to make you think I don't care about what you've gone through. I love you so much. Please don't cry." And Bucky tries, he really does, but he can't hold it all in. He's always worn his heart on his sleeve and his emotions are so much stronger than they were before and he just breaks down. "Shh, baby," Steve whispers, taking Bucky into his arms, rubbing a big hand down his spine. "I'm right here. You're okay. I'm not going anywhere." Bucky just clings to him, metal hand clenched in his shirt and the other arm thrown around his neck. It's safe and warm here and he never wants to move, even after his tears run out.

"I'm sorry," Bucky murmurs, voice hoarse. He needs Steve to know. Because he treated Steve horribly and Steve didn't deserve it. Steve was wrong, but he didn't deserve that.

"Don't be," Steve says. "You have nothing to apologise for." But Bucky doesn't believe that.

"I was mean. Before." He pulls away and looks up at Steve. "You didn't deserve that."

"No, but it needed to be said. Thank you. And I'm sorry again." There's a pause, and then Steve makes to get up. "C'mon, I got you something." 

"You got me a present?" Bucky asks, looking up. There's a smile spreading across his face and he doesn't even try to stop it. Steve gestures for Bucky to follow him, so they get up and go into the kitchen. There's a little red box on the table and Steve looks from Bucky to the box and back. 

"Well, open it," Steve says excitedly. Bucky looks at him for a moment before looking down at the box. It's about the size of Bucky's palm and it's got a gold bow. He looks back up to Steve who lifts his eyebrows and smiles encouragingly. Bucky's excitement bubbles over and he opens the lid to reveal a silver ring.

"You proposing to me, Stevie?" Bucky asks, because he has no other words. Is Steve going to ask Bucky to marry him? Because the answer will be yes. Yes. Forever.

"More like a promise to propose," Steve explains. "Because I'm going to. Just so you know." Warmth spreads from Bucky's head to his toes and he slides the ring onto his right ring finger. "I'm going to get Tony to make the real ring so it will fit on your left hand, but . . ."

"This is perfect," Bucky murmurs, looking up at Steve. "I love you." Smiling, Steve leans down to kiss him.

"I love you back," he whispers against Bucky's lips. Bucky reaches up to cup the back of Steve's neck, pulling him down to deepen the kiss. Steve reacts immediately, wrapping his arms around Bucky's waist and pulling him close. It's slow and languid—there's no rush, they've got the rest of their lives.

Eventually, Steve just picks Bucky up and carries him into the bedroom. Only then does Bucky feel how hard Steve is inside of his jeans and he groans low in his throat. Steve lays him across the bed and gets in his space—between his legs and on top of him. It's so hot here and Bucky really needs to get their clothes off, but old insecurities rise up and he pulls away. Steve whines at the loss of contact, but doesn't try to initiate again.

"What's wrong?" the blond asks gently, pushing Bucky's hair out of his face. Steve's eyes are big and dark and he's biting at his bottom lip. He really is the epitome of desire.

"You don't have to do this just cause you think I want to," Bucky says quietly. And then Steve rolls his eyes.

"You're a fucking idiot, Barnes," Steve mutters, diving back in for another kiss. "When have you known me to do something I didn't want to?" And he's got a point, so Bucky pulls him back down and latches their mouths together, working Steve's shirt up until it's off and Bucky can slot his fingers between Steve's ribs. "You tell me if you need to slow down," Steve says, kissing down Bucky's neck. "Or if you need to stop." And Bucky nods feverishly as Steve takes his shirt off and kisses down his chest. With one hand, Steve undoes the button and fly of Bucky's pants while the other pulls them down until they're off and Bucky is naked under Steve's heated gaze.

" _Steve_ ," Bucky pleads, lifting his hips a bit. He needs Steve to touch him, to do anything but what he's doing right now—staring.

"You're beautiful," Steve whispers, trailing his fingers across the top of Bucky's left shoulder. It's all gnarled scar tissue and he can't feel much of it, but with the way Steve's looking at him, Bucky gets all hot inside. Steve continues his path down Bucky's metal arm, and with the new tech he got from Stark, Bucky can actually feel most of it. Steve's fingers are warm, pushing down just enough for the sensors to be able to pick it up. 

No one's touched him like this in years—gently, lovingly. He wants more. 

"If you don't touch me _right now_ ," Bucky threatens, trailing off because Steve's mouth is suddenly lavishing kisses on his inner thighs. Bucky's right hand goes down to tangle Steve's hair, his other hand gripping the headboard as Steve takes Bucky into his mouth. "Shit," Bucky chokes out. Steve's mouth is hot and wet and he's taking Bucky into his throat and Bucky feels like he's going to come already. He tugs at Steve's hair, trying but to warn him, but the blond just sucks and licks up to the tip before taking Bucky's cock back into his throat and fucking _swallowing_ around him.

And that's it, Bucky done. He's coming down Steve's throat and the blond just suckles at him until Bucky physically pulls Steve off of him to kiss him. And Bucky can taste himself on Steve's tongue and for whatever reason, that just turns him on more.

"Still hard for me," Steve murmurs, hand going down to stroke Bucky slowly. "More?" He placed his other hand over Bucky's and twines their fingers together. Bucky can feel the ring pushing into his finger and God, of course he wants more.

"Is that even a question?" Bucky asks, smiling stupidly up at Steve. "Please. Want you in me. It's been too long." With that, Steve pulls away and gets in the nightstand drawer where he knows Bucky keeps his lube and then gets back on the bed.

"Condom?" Steve asks, looking a little lost.

"Have we ever needed one?" Bucky asks.

"It's been a long time. I didn't know if you--"

"I haven't," Bucky cuts him off. "I promised I would love you forever. And only you." He takes a deep breath and looks into those endless ocean eyes. "I've kept that promise." Steve just looks at Bucky for a moment, thumb stroking over his jaw.

"You didn't have to," he says softly, gently. And Bucky knows what he's implicating—that Bucky should have found love again, should have moved on. That Steve never wanted Bucky to be alone when he was dead.

Because they knew both of them wouldn't come out of the war alive. And now, funny enough, here they are.

"I wanted to," Bucky whispers. "I wanted to keep my promise to you. And I didn't want anyone else. They weren't you." It's true. Bucky could've been with so many people over the years, even in his time as the Asset, but he never did. He thinks the part of his brain that was Bucky Barnes stopped the Asset from taking interest in anyone. 

"Buck . . ."

"Shh," Bucky says. "Just kiss me." And Steve does, even as he's grabbing the lube and popping the top off. Then Steve's finger is breaching Bucky's hole, just dipping in and running circles around it while Steve kisses him slowly. Bucky's breath hitches, head falling back onto the pillow, and Steve presses the finger in to the first knuckle. Bucky whines, and Steve kisses down his neck. 

"Okay?" Steve asks, mouthing at Bucky's clavicle.

"You're not gonna hurt me," Bucky replies, lifting his hips. Steve takes the hint and presses his finger all the way inside. He opens Bucky up torturously slow until he's got three fingers in Bucky's ass and Bucky is fully hard and ready again. "C'mon Stevie. Fuck me like you did the night you rescued me from Zola's lab." And that night had been probably the best sex they'd ever had. 

The blond groans and withdraws his fingers before lining himself up and pushing in. Bucky's mouth drops open in a silent scream and he squeezes his eyes shut. It's been too long since they did this, since they were together like this.

"This okay?" Steve asks, looking down at Bucky with lust-darkened eyes.

"Give me a second," Bucky rasps, hands going back to Steve's sides. It hurts, but it's the good kind of pain. The kind of pain that turns Bucky on and makes him want more. But Steve is big—bigger than Bucky remembers—and he needs a minute to let his body adjust. Steve's arms are shaking with the effort of holding back, and Bucky doesn't want to wait anymore. "Okay," he says.

And Steve moves. 

It's slow at first—Steve pulling out all the way and then sinking back in. It's just enough to drive Bucky crazy, but not enough to get him off. Bucky tries to spur him on, but it just makes Steve go slower. Bucky can hear the wet sounds of Steve driving into him, can hear Steve's little moans. 

"Please," Bucky gasps. Steve bows his head so he can kiss along Bucky's jaw, keeping up the torturously slow pace.

"Please what, baby?" Steve husks. "Tell me what you need." It's punctuated with a quick thrust, and then it's back to slow and even.

"Want . . ." Bucky trails off. Bites his lip. Tries again. "Want you to get rough with me," Bucky mutters, hiding his face as soon as he says it. But Steve doesn't miss a beat, increasing his speed and bringing a hand up to cup Bucky's throat lightly. His thumb strokes over Bucky's Adam's apple—just enough pressure to feel it. 

"This what you want, baby?" Steve asks lowly, fucking him faster. "You want me to hold you down, make you scream?" There's a bit more pressure on Bucky's neck; Steve is asking.

"Yeah," Bucky chokes out, dropping his head back to give Steve a better grip on his neck. "Please." And Steve does, gripping Bucky's neck and fucking into him harder, deeper. Bucky's right on the edge, waiting to tip over, but there's no rush. He wants this to last forever.

But it's not going to because Steve is slamming into him, gripping his throat so tight Bucky's wheezing, and then Steve's coming and the hand around Bucky's throat is now around his dick and Steve is whispering to him, come for me, come now, and Bucky does, letting out a helpless scream that sounds like Steve's name. 

Steve drops onto his forearms and kisses down Bucky's neck, across his chest, back up to his face. It's quiet aside from their heavy breathing, and Bucky feels calm for the first time in a long time. His heart is pounding and he can't make sense of his thoughts, but he feels good. Lighter, in a way. Weightless.

The kisses stop and Steve moves, gets up. It's cold without him and Bucky immediately wants the warmth back. His face scrunches up when a light turns on, and then there's a cloth wiping Bucky off. The room goes dark once more and then Steve is pulling the covers up over them. Bucky doesn't move, still sprawled out and panting. Steve leans over him and runs a hand through his hair, humming an old Buddy Holly song.

His neck aches dully, not enough to cause discomfort but enough for Bucky to feel it. It makes him feel claimed and safe and protected.

"You okay, baby?" Steve asks him. "I didn't hurt you too much?" Of course Steve is worrying. Typical.

"I'm great," Bucky says, turning to press into Steve's side. "I'm more than great. You didn't hurt me. You're fantastic." Bucky feels a bit drunk, but maybe it's because he's so in love.

"Alright, Buck," Steve murmurs, smiling. "Do you believe me now? That I'm not going anywhere?" Steve lifts his face up so that they're looking at each other, and Bucky grins.

"Yeah, Stevie. You're not goin' anywhere." Bucky wraps himself around Steve—arm over his waist with the other wrapped under his shoulders, one knee between Steve's thighs. "I won't let ya." Steve laughs, and it's the most beautiful thing Bucky's ever heard.

"I wouldn't want to," Steve whispers. "Gonna stay right here with you." Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's forehead and Bucky looks up so he can kiss him properly. "Love you." Steve kisses him again, and again, and again before Bucky pulls away and tucks his face back into Steve's shoulder. 

"Love you back, punk." 

-

1945

Bucky Barnes was still holding on. After fitting him with the metal arm and soldering it into his skeletal structure, they'd thrown him into a cell. They had thought that Steve would come after him, that he would be more use to them alive. That they could use Bucky as bait. 

It'd been almost six months and Steve hadn't come. Bucky kept holding out for it, waiting for his Stevie to come rescue him like he did in Zola's lab, but he didn't.

And then he heard some of the guards saying that Steve was dead. 

"Who told you that?" Bucky'd demanded, clinging at the cold metal bars of his cell.

"The United States Army has him listed as KIA," the masked guard sneered. "There's no one coming for you. You're our bitch now." Bucky stumbled back to the metal bed and sat down, pulling the blanket around his shoulders.

Steve was dead? How did he die? His heart hurt, like it'd been ripped out of his chest. He feels like he's been robbed of air. Steve, the sun to Bucky's darkness, was dead. Steve left him alone and imprisoned and now all the light in Bucky's world has gone out. He felt like there was no fight left in him when the guards come to get him a few hours later, when they sat him down in an operating chair. They restrained him and gave him a mouth guard to bite down on, and that was when he knew something was wrong.

That was when he realised something awful was about to happen.

"This is going to hurt," the doctor warned him in very heavily accented English. "I'm sorry." And that was strange. A doctor working for HYDRA apologising. Bucky wanted to ask what, what was going to hurt, what are you going to do to me, but he couldn't. The plastic mouth guard made it impossible to speak, and then there was a metal contraption framing his head.

Oh god.

He'd heard about this—electroshock therapy was used widely by psychiatrists on fairies caught by the police. They tried to shock the same sex attraction out of them.

But that wasn't the reason they were doing this. He'd heard the whispers, the talk of using Bucky as a human weapon. Of using him to kill Captain America. But now that Steve was dead, what possible use was Bucky to them. 

The first shock hit him and blinding pain seared through his entire body.

The second shock hit him and that's when he started screaming.

-

2012

Bucky wakes up in a cold sweat, tangled in their sheets. He looks over to where Steve is sleeping peacefully a few inches away and tries to control his breathing. It was just a dream, Steve is here and he's safe and he's alive. Bucky has nothing to worry about, everyone is okay.

The last week has been hell. One thing after another—Loki and his space army and the tesseract and the battle for New York. And even now that it's finally over, Bucky still can't sleep. He dreams of portals and aliens and Steve dying in his arms.

The team took a hard hit—Tony is a mess, Bruce is a wreck, Thor is gone back to Asgard, Natasha and Clint have holed up somewhere in the tower recovering . . . and he and Steve are here.

Bucky knows Steve isn't as okay as he claims to be. That his "peaceful" sleep is only because he's too exhausted to have nightmares. Steve hasn't slept for three days—too busy making sure everything was in place and strategising with the team. Bucky'd tried to get him to come to bed so many times, but he wasn't having it.

They'd worked well together—Bucky and Clint on the highest roofs they could find, picking off the Chituari that tried to get out of the perimeter while everyone else tried to get the portal closed. It made Bucky anxious that he couldn't see Steve at all times, but he knew Steve could take care of himself.

Only he hadn't, and Bucky'd come down from his roof to see Steve barely able to stand. Bucky hadn't said anything in front of the team, hadn't wanted to undermine Steve's authority. He hadn't said anything even when he was bandaging Steve's ribs. It didn't need to be said aloud, Steve knew.

And now here they are, Bucky lying awake in bed, measuring Steve's breathing to make sure he's okay. The even puffs of air and small sounds coming from his boyfriend calm Bucky, always have, but he doesn't think he be able to fall back asleep.

He drags himself out of bed, almost tripping on the sheets, and makes his way to the bathroom. He feels gross, in desperate need of a shower, and he's really hoping that the noise won't wake Steve up. He needs to rest. So Bucky turns the water on and prays he won't knock anything over while he rinses the sweat from his body.

He takes his time washing and conditioning his hair, rubbing his body down with coconut-scented body wash. As much as Bucky loves Steve, he hates the smell of coconuts and he's tried telling the blond this, but to no avail. Steve just looks at him with his big sad puppy dog eyes and Bucky gives in. He can't say no to that.

Bucky spends a few more minutes in the shower, and then his flesh fingers start to prune so he gets out. He dries off quietly before slipping on a clean pair of sleep pants—Steve's, of course—and going up to the roof. He comes up here sometimes when he can't sleep, just looking over the city's lights. It's calming almost—seeing people just going about their business in the city that never sleeps.

Eventually, though, he gets too cold and goes back down to their floor. They're doing reruns of _Law & Order: SVU_ on TV, so he grabs a blanket and settles in. It's only two, and he's pretty sure he won't be able to sleep again, so he plans on distracting himself with whatever he can. And watching Olivia Benson be a badass is a good distraction.

He's on his second episode when Steve wanders sleepily out of the bedroom and curls up next to him.

"Can't sleep?" Bucky asks him, making enough room so they can both lay comfortably. 

"I was cold," Steve says blearily, nuzzling closer. Bucky runs a hand down Steve's side and back up to his shoulder, rubbing the tension out.

"You feelin' okay?" Bucky knows Steve won't lie to him when he's tired, especially since it's a direct question.

"Hurts," Steve whimpers, snuggling under the blankets.

"Where does it hurt, baby?"

"Everywhere," Steve replies, his voice muffled against Bucky's neck. Bucky hums in sympathy and holds Steve closer. He's adorable like this—sleepy and clingy and sweet. Bucky's only qualm is that he's hurt. "Why're you up?" Steve asks, waking up a bit more.

"Bad dreams," Bucky says simply. "Not a big deal." Because it's not—they're just dreams, right? 

"Wanna talk about it?" Steve mumbles, playing with the waistband of Bucky's pants. 

"Just need you to be more careful," Bucky says, because he can. Steve is tired and when he's tired he's more agreeable. More likely to take a bit of criticism. "Just watch your back a little more when I can't be there to do it for you, okay?" Nodding, Steve pushes farther into Bucky's space, tangling their legs together.

"Love you," he whispers, and Bucky smiles. 

"Love you back, Stevie."

-

1946

Bucky was just barely holding onto reality, just barely holding onto what made him _him_. They'd shocked him so many times that the edges were becoming blurry, it was harder to remember things. He remembered the important things—his name was Bucky Barnes, his best friend/lover was Steve Rogers/Captain America, he fought in the war and fell off a train.

But it was getting harder to fight it. He wanted to sleep, to be left alone. Cause it wasn't bad enough that he was being tortured, but he was also being abused sexually. He just wanted it all to stop. If it took not remembering himself to make the pain stop, then he was willing to do that. To let go, to become no one.

To become the Asset that HYDRA wants.

"What is your name?" the doctor asked him for the fifth time today. Bucky didn't respond. Because he wanted the pain to end, but he also didn't want to forget Steve. Steve was the only thing keeping him afloat, the only thing worth fighting for.

But Steve was dead. You can't fight for someone that's dead. 

"What is your name?" the man asked again, impatiently this time. Bucky knew pain was coming for him if he didn't answer, so he made a choice.

To leave Bucky Barnes behind, hidden and safe in the back of his brain until it was safe to come out again. 

"I have no name," the Asset responded, and you could hear a pin drop in the room.

"Very good," the doctor said. "Move him to cryo." Bucky Barnes resurfaced enough to panic, but the Asset shoved him back down, staying calm and collected. A guard shoved the Asset into a small, frigid metal chamber and locked the door behind him. Bringing both hands up to the small window, the Asset tried to scream, but his body was rapidly cooling. 

Ocean blue eyes were the last thought the Asset had before he was frozen alive. 

- 

2013

Bucky Barnes turns thirty-two today. Or ninety-five if you count all the years he was frozen, but Bucky doesn't. He doesn't like the sound of being ninety-five, though Tony likes to broadcast it.

He doesn't really have time to wake up fully, and he's completely fine with that because Steve woke him up with Bucky's dick in his mouth.

It's one hell of a wake up call.

His head is foggy with sleep and lust and his body is completely relaxed when Steve inserts a lubed finger into Bucky's hole. Bucky thinks he cries out, but he doesn't care about the noise. He can't think straight and Steve is fingering him slowly while he sucks and licks at Bucky's cock, pulling out all the stops. He dips his tongue into the slit while pushing another finger in, and Bucky's hand tangles into Steve's hair. 

"Steve," Bucky chokes out. Steve looks up at him, eyes heated but full of love, and hums around him. The vibrations coupled with the heat of Steve's mouth and the ministrations of his fingers have Bucky writhing. "Steve," Bucky pleads.

"Yes?" Steve asks, pulling off of Bucky but not bothering to stop rubbing at his prostate.

"Need you," Bucky murmurs, smoothing out Steve's hair as best he can. Steve is the epitome of sin like this—hair ruffled, lips bruised red, eyes dark. He's beautiful.

"You got me, sweetheart," Steve breathes against Bucky's inner thigh, sucking a mark into his skin. "Tell me what you need. I'll give it to you." Instead of words, Bucky uses actions to convey what he wants. He pulls on Steve's arm so that Steve has to move, kneeling between Bucky's legs, and then Bucky's pulls him down for a kiss. 

"Need you in me," he says against Steve's lips. "Please." His lover acquiesces, kissing Bucky slowly as he slides in, soothing a hand down Bucky's side. 

"I'm gonna fuck you nice and slow," Steve murmurs in Bucky's ear. "And you're gonna stay still and take it." To punctuate his words, Steve pulls away and holds Bucky's hips to the bed. Bucky lets out a low whine—he wants to move. Wants to take Steve deeper, harder, but Steve has kept his slow, steady pace.

"Tease," Bucky mutters, trying to bait him.

"Gotta take care of my best guy," Steve says, ignoring Bucky's comment. "Gonna take care of you, baby. Just let me." So Bucky surrenders, laying back and watching Steve closely as he slowly takes Bucky apart.

Bucky loves being filled like this—slowly, intimately, lovingly. It's so different than what he and Steve normally do—rough and dirty. Not that that's a bad thing, any sex with Steve is good sex, but this . . . every now and then, Bucky needs this. 

Steve rubs up on Bucky's prostate and he groans, letting his head tip back. Steve takes that as an invitation, kissing and nipping over Bucky's neck and clavicles. He bites especially hard at the junction between Bucky's neck and flesh shoulder, soothing over it with his tongue and a kiss. 

"Want you to come like this," he murmurs, kissing up Bucky's neck before taking his earlobe in his teeth and biting softly. "Just like this." And then Steve picks his pace up just a hair, and their bodies are rubbing together over Bucky's leaking cock, and it's almost enough. Just a little more pressure, a little faster and Bucky'd be there. "For me, Buck. Come for me." And Bucky can't ever resist Steve, so he does.

Steve is fucking him faster now, chasing his own release. Bucky's orgasm is still washing over him and he lifts up to bite Steve's shoulder just to keep from screaming. 

"Fuck," Steve groans, and Bucky feels him pulse inside of him, coming hard with his head on Bucky's shoulder.

After, they lay in silence, catching their breath. Bucky is warm and happy and tired, ready to take a nap. Steve rolls off of him and gets up, shooting Bucky a look that says don't you dare get up. So he just lays back and closes his eyes, content with being taken care of.

Steve cleans them up and then gets under the covers beside Bucky, pulling him close and resting his cheek in Bucky's hair. A hand is rubbing the knots out of his back, freeing Bucky's muscles and eliminating the pain there.

Bucky's still not very good at speaking up when he's in pain. Steve knows, though. Steve always knows. 

"You're the best thing to happen to me," Steve whispers. Bucky blushes and nuzzles further into Steve's arms. 

"Sap," he mutters back, smiling against Steve's skin.

"But I'm _your_ sap," Steve teases, dropping a kiss on Bucky's forehead. "Go back to sleep, baby."

And that sounds like a great idea.

- 

1951

The Asset had been given a mission four hours, seven minutes, and twenty-six seconds ago. The target was a high-profile Russian politician that it's handlers wanted taken out at any cost. Those were his orders. 

The Asset always follows orders.

It was at the target's house, staking out and waiting for the target to come home. There was no need to follow him, no need to go out of it's way to find him. It's handlers had given it the address of the target's getaway home in the mountains and that was all the Asset needed. 

A black vehicle parked in the driveway and a young man got out. Tall, broad shoulders, blond hair, in khakis and a button down shirt. Something twanged in the Asset's memory, like an itch it just couldn't scratch, but it's training kicked in and the Asset ignored it.

It was not allowed to be curious. It was not allowed to have emotions. It was not allowed to remember. The man he used to be had been hidden away and eventually had stopped screaming for it to remember. 

The target was inside now and the Asset registered surprise when two young children ran straight into him. The Asset didn't need to kill the children to get to the target, but it would if it had to. All that mattered was mission completion. 

The Asset took aim from behind it's sniper rifle and fired straight through the window, hitting the target between the eyes. It began packing up, about to get off of the roof as quickly as possible, but there was some distant screaming, and the Asset, against all of it's training, looked back toward the house.

The daughter. The daughter was dead, lying beside her father. Possibly from the bullet rebounding, possibly because she was just in the way. Either way, the Asset does not care. It was programmed not to care. The Asset was a machine—a weapon for HYDRA and whoever they decided to lend him to. To do whatever they wanted it to do. 

The Asset had no opinion on this other than mild disgust. Suffice to say that the Asset had been doing this long enough to know it was never going to end. 

It would never end until the Asset is no longer useful to HYDRA. And then it will be killed.

-

2014 

HYDRA is inside of SHIELD. They've been growing there, thriving, for years. Feeding off of them.

And HYDRA wants their Asset back. 

Now the Avengers aren't going to let that happen, and Bucky would rather die than go back. Steve has been super protective of him, not letting him go outside without someone else, no more going up to the roof when he can't sleep.

It's kind of annoying—Bucky can take care of himself, thank you very much--but going back into that cryo chamber scares the shit out of him. Forgetting the last five years—Steve, his friends, his past, his present . . .

 _Absolutely not_.

He refuses. If somehow HYDRA catches him anyway, he'd put a gun to his head and pull the trigger.

And when Bucky slips and confesses it to Steve, he flips out.

"What?" Steve breathes, going completely pale.

"Look, Steve—"

" _No!_ " Steve interrupts. "You can't do that, Bucky. You _can't_." Taking a deep breath, Bucky tries to explain. 

"I'm not gonna to go back there, Steve," he says. "I'm not gonna murder for them anymore. I'm not gonna go back in that cryo chamber. I'm not gonna let them take my memories away again." Anger is bubbling inside his chest—at Steve, at HYDRA, at himself.

"That doesn't just affect you, Buck," Steve argues, hands clenched into fists. "You're not in this alone anymore." 

"I'm _always_ in it alone!" Bucky yells back. Steve takes a step back, looking hurt. "You may be here for me, but you're not there with me. If they take me, yeah it'll suck for you and you'll grieve me, but it's me that has to go through the brainwashing. It's me who's going to be tortured and abused and punished. Not you." Bucky's breathing hard, face hot. He's holding onto the table he's leaning on so tight that he can hear the wood creaking. Why can't Steve see that Bucky's right? 

"I won't let them take you!" Steve cries, looking offended that Bucky would even thank that. "They're not gonna get to you, Buck. They'd have to go through the whole team and then through me." Bucky barely keeps himself from rolling his eyes.

"They got through you once," Bucky says harshly. Steve's face falls. "It's HYDRA, Steve. They've survived seventy years inside of the agency that you work for. They want something? Chances are, they're going to get it." Bucky closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before looking back up at Steve. "If they capture me, I would rather kill myself than go back in that chair." Steve stumbles back likes he's been shot—clutching at his chest where his heart is.

"You can't mean that, Buck," Steve whispers.

"I do."

"You'd leave me behind?" Steve asks, on the verge of tears. "You'd leave me alone?" And Bucky's mad again.

"This isn't about you!" Bucky hisses, pushing off the table and walking toward Steve. "This has nothing to do with you or how much I do or don't love you. This is about what I want, for once. I'm in control of my body. It's not theirs, and it's not yours. It's mine and my brain is mine and they do not get to have it back. They do not get to make me into that monster again." Bucky stops a foot away from Steve and crosses his arms. Steve realises what he's said, and shame washes over his face. "You don't get to make decisions for me. I decide what I do. Alone." 

"Buck . . ." Steve whispers, stumbling forward with a hand reached out, but Bucky flinches away.

"I think you should go," Bucky says. Steve's eyes widen and his jaw works like he's going to say something, but Bucky cuts him off. "You don't want me to go out," Bucky explains. "And I need to be alone right now." Steve straightens up and looks at Bucky for a long moment before turning around and getting into the elevator. Bucky's about to turn around and go back into the living room, but as the doors are closing Steve sticks his arm through, making them open again. He falls back into the room and comes over to Bucky, taking his face into big hands. 

"I love you and I'm trying to keep you safe," he murmurs, ocean eyes boring into Bucky's. "I may be going about it completely wrong, but I'm terrified, Buck." Steve's face shows real fear, and Bucky's heart aches.

"I'm sorry, Steve," Bucky whispers, relaxing. Steve's arms go around Bucky's shoulders and Bucky holds him back. "I don't want to leave you alone. I don't want to be taken away from you. But I don't think this is a fight we can win." Pulling back, Bucky looks up at Steve.

"You've given up," Steve says. "You've given up, you think we don't have a chance. But I haven't given up. You don't think you can fight anymore? I have enough fight inside me for both of us. Always have." Steve flashes a crooked smile. "You took care of me for so long," he murmurs, brushing Bucky's hair out of his face. "Let me take care of you for once." Bucky doesn't know what to say. He's not even sure he can talk right now, tears choking him. He just nods and drops his head onto Steve's shoulder. Steve kisses his hair, hugging him close. 

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Bucky whispers, tears running down his cheeks. 

"Buck, I—" 

"Sirs, you are needed on the main floor," JARVIS interrupts. Steve looks at Bucky, and Bucky straightens up, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

"What's going on?" Bucky asks Steve, and his boyfriend shrugs.

"Hell if I know." They make their way to the main floor only to be confused even further when there is no one there. There are voices coming from the conference rooms, so they head that way, hands clasped. All they can see is the Avengers and Nick Fury surrounding someone as they approach. All of the tables have been piled to the side, blocking the window. The chairs have been thrown out of the room and there's a man tied to a chair.

"Tell us who sent you," Natasha demands, and Bucky stiffens. He recognises the man they have tied up in the chair.

It's one of the Asset's handlers. Bucky wants to rip his face off as soon as he sees him.

"Natasha!" Steve calls, still not going into the room. The redhead turns around and her eyes widen in fear when she sees Bucky.

"Get him out of here!" she tells Steve, waving her arms around. "He can't be here!" Bucky's not listening to her—he's locked eyes with the man in the chair. He's gagged, face bloody, but he smiles at Bucky—a mean, grotesque smile. Steve's arm wraps around Bucky and pulls him backward, and Bucky is so shell shocked that he lets himself be dragged along behind Steve.

"Buck," Steve says quietly. Bucky hadn't even realised Steve had been talking to him. He doesn't even know where in the tower they were, only that he has to get out of here. 

"I have to go," Bucky says, trying to pull his arm out of Steve's grip. "Steve, I have to leave! I have to get out of here. I have to go!" He's on the verge of a panic attack, trying to get away from Steve. Steve doesn't understand. Bucky can't be here with that man. He can't be within shouting distance. He finally breaks free of Steve's grip, and starts running toward the nearest exit.

"Bucky!" Steve calls, sprinting after him. His boyfriend catches up at the fire escape stairs, taking him by the arm and pushing him up against the wall. Bucky's hands are shaking, his heart racing. All he can think is that he has to leave, he has to get out of this fucking tower and go someplace safe.

"Steve, you don't understand!" Bucky shouts. "They have the trigger words!" Words punctuated by a harsh shove, pushing Steve back and away from him, but Bucky doesn't try to run again. All the fight has drained out of him and he slides to the floor, shaking. He can't go back there, can't be made into their Asset again. He won't. 

"What do you mean?" Steve asks, crouching in front of him. "I can't help if I don't know what's going on. 

"Trigger words," Bucky says again, trying to explain. "They programmed words into my head to make me revert into the Asset. Words that they could use when I was too out of control, when I'd been out of cryo too long and was starting to remember." He looks up at Steve and opens his mouth again, but he doesn't know how to explain. This whole situation is so fucked up.

"So he knows these words?" Steve asks, trying to understand.

"He was one of the Asset's handlers," Bucky whispers. "One of my handlers." Steve's eyes widen and realisation washes over his features.

"Oh," he murmurs. "Buck, we gotta get you out of here." Steve stands up and offers a hand to Bucky. "Go up to our floor. There are duffle bags under the bed. Pack clothes and non perishables." Bucky goes to do what Steve says, but Steve stops him. "And Buck? Bring all the guns you can carry. I won't let them have you." Warmth spreads through Bucky's body and he remembers that he's not alone in this anymore. Steve had said so himself. He has the Avengers on his side and he has his Stevie.

"Where are you going?" Bucky asks him.

"To see if Tony knows a safe place we can stay. Off the grid." Steve pulls him into a kiss. "Go. Meet back here in ten minutes." Bucky nods and goes to do as he's told, but then turns around.

"And Steve?" he asks, and Steve stops. "Thank you." Steve walks back over to him and kisses Bucky softly.

"Thank me when I get you somewhere safe." Steve kisses him one more time before shooing Bucky off to go pack. And when Bucky makes it up to their floor and starts to throw things into duffle bags, he lets himself hope that he'll see the other side of this. 

- 

1961 

The Asset had been out of cryo for two weeks, four days, seven hours, and twenty-one minutes. It had been having strange dreams during it's sleep cycles—dreams of a man with blond hair and ocean blue eyes. It didn't know who the man was, only that he was someone important—someone to be taken care of.

The dreams always included the blond man, but there was also a young brunet man. A man resembling the Asset itself. But that man was loving, kind, and gentle. That man loved the blond man and they looked after each other. 

The Asset loved no one.

The Asset looked out for no one except itself.

The Asset had a feeling that the brunet man in it's dreams was an older version of itself, someone buried beneath years of torture and programming. It wanted to find out, to know who the blond man was, but it's handlers were trying to force it back into the chair, back into the cryo chamber.

The Asset didn't want to go. Didn't want to lose what it had just seen—what it had just remembered. The love. It was warm and bright and inviting. 

Because they weren't dreams, the Asset knew that. They were memories. _It's_ memories.

The Asset racked it's brain, chasing the memories, but it was no good. They were gone. 

But it remembered something! It remembered and it didn't want to get back in the chair. It didn't want to forget again. The man named Kaprov tried to get the Asset back in the chair, but the Asset fought back, shoving the man across the room and taking a fighting stance. It's eyes were flashing across the room, daring anyone to come close to it.

But then another of the Asset's handlers stepped into the room. And the Asset knew that punishment was coming for his insubordination.

"Get in the chair," the man said. The Asset knew it should comply, but the memories he had . . . they were so . . . happy? The Asset didn't know what happiness felt like, but if it felt like summer and ocean blue eyes and laugher, then his memories with the blond man were filled with happiness. 

"Who is the blond man in my memories?" the Asset asked. "What have you done to me?" The man looked unfazed by the Asset's questions, and did nothing more than walk closer to it.

"Last chance, dog," the man said. "Get in the chair or I will have to resort to drastic measures."

"No," the Asset said, metal hand clenching into a fist. It is stronger than this man. It could make a run for it, try to get away. It could—

" _Sputnik_ ," the man said, and the Asset's mind went blank. It couldn't move, couldn't speak. And then, like a switch was flipped, the Asset was no longer concerned with the man in it's memories. Was no longer fighting against it's handlers. It got in the chair and opened it's mouth, allowing the guard to be shoved into it.

"Wipe him," Kaprov said, and then the Asset's world went white with pain.

- 

2014

It's been two weeks. Two weeks at this cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Well, it's technically South West Virginia, but its the same thing. Tony owns some property up in the mountains here that isn't in his name, and that's where they are. It's twenty-five acres of forest and the huge cabin, just for the two of them. If Bucky tries really hard, he can almost think of it as kind of a vacation. It's peaceful here. Quiet. It's nice.

Plus all of the sex. That's nice, too. Especially the plug Bucky has in currently. It makes sitting kind of awkward—he has to shift all of his weight to one side—but it's good.

Steve is trying really hard to take their minds off of the situation. It works for the most part—when they're playing cards or watching TV or baking cookies. But it's the quiet of the night, the times when Bucky can't sleep, that the bad thoughts come.

The line of thinking that they can't stay here forever. They can't keep running away. Someone will find them eventually, and then what are they going to do? One word and Bucky could turn on Steve, revert into the Winter Soldier and destroy everything he's worked so hard to build. All of his progress, just gone in an instant.

So when that happens, when Steve is asleep and Bucky is awake, he comes out to the roof to stare at the moon and the stars and try to figure out how he's going to make it through this. How he's going to keep Steve safe. Because he knows that if HYDRA doesn't get him back soon, they're going to start killing people. Anyone they can get their hands on—Tony, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor . . . they're all on the list. And Bucky can't let them get hurt. Not for him.

He's trying to find a way out of this, a way out that leaves him alive and together with Steve, but every situation he runs ends with him dead or captured. If he turns himself in to HYDRA, they're going to turn him back into the Winter Soldier, the Asset with no emotions or ability to think for itself. If he kills himself, Steve would never get past it, would never forgive himself. If he stays here, it's only a matter of time before someone finds them. If they fight—they meaning his team and not Bucky, because he can't be anywhere near someone who knows his trigger words—there will be casualties.

HYDRA is ruthless and cruel when they want something, and they won't stop until they get it. Bucky knows what is waiting for him if HYDRA gets him back, and it almost makes him sick. The mind wipes, the cryo . . . Bucky can't take any more pain. He won't survive it. He can't put on a brave face anymore. He's terrified of them, of going back. He's—

"Bucky?" Steve asks sleepily from behind him. Bucky's out on the back porch, just sitting on the stairs and watching the stars. They'd planned on taking a nap, but Bucky hadn't been able to sleep. "Woke up and you weren't there. You okay?" Steve crouches down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Not really," Bucky replies honestly. Steve makes a little noise of sympathy and sits down beside him, throwing an arm around Bucky's shoulders.

"Wanna talk about it?" Steve asks, and Bucky leans into him.

"I just don't see an out where I live," Bucky murmurs. "I've run all of our options, and I don't see a way out for me without people I care about getting hurt." Bucky's being honest right now, and he knows Steve appreciates it.

"The thing you don't get," Steve whispers, "Is that the people who care about you are willing to take that risk. We're willingly throwing our lots in with yours because we love you and we want to keep you safe." Steve presses a kiss to his temple and holds him closer. "Just let us, okay? That's how you get out of this alive. You let your friends help."  And Bucky knows Steve is right, but he can't bring himself to be the cause of his friend's pain. Of Steve's pain. 

"I can't," Bucky says, tucking his head into the crook of Steve's neck. The blond sighs and kisses the top of Bucky's head.

"Don't hate me, but Tony and Natasha are already making a list of HYDRA agents inside of SHIELD." Steve waits for a second and Bucky realises how tense he's gone. "They've got the FBI and CIA, people that they know and trust, arresting people. Tony knows a good judge with a clean record, an old friend, that will be trying them. We're already on it, Buck." Steve looks at him for a moment, waiting for him to relax, but he can't.

"I just wanna crawl inside of your body and live there forever because in your arms is the only place I feel safe," Bucky whispers. He's shaking now, torn between wanting to let Steve help and wanting him to keep safe. But he knows that no matter what Bucky decides, Steve has decided to help and there's nothing Bucky can do about it.

"I'm right here," Steve soothes. "I'll always be right here." Steve holds Bucky while he trembles, while he calms down. "I love you, Buck. You're gonna be fine." Nodding, Bucky wipes his face and stands up, leading Steve inside. The blond sits on the couch and instead of sitting beside him, Bucky climbs on top of him.

"Love you," he whispers, dipping his head down so he can kiss Steve. "Love you so much." He kisses Steve again, parting Steve's lips with his tongue to deepen it. Bucky is rock hard the instant Steve grinds his hips up, and he can feel his boyfriend's erection through his sweat pants. Steve's head tips back onto the couch and Bucky grinds down again, pulling a low groan out of the blond. 

"Feels good, Buck," Steve murmurs, tightening his grip on Bucky's hips. Bucky grins and moves so that he can rid Steve of his pants, and then take his own off, climbing back onto Steve's lap. Long fingers circle around the plug Steve'd put in earlier that morning, and Bucky's eyes flutter shut.

"Want you," Bucky whispers, pushing back into Steve's hand. 

"Bed," Steve orders, and Bucky gets up and lies on the bed—legs spread, stroking himself slowly. Steve comes in a few seconds later with a bottle of lube and stops dead in the doorway. Bucky just smiles and tips his head back, letting out a low moan. "Jesus," Steve mutters, coming over to the bed and kneeling between Bucky's legs. "Let's get this outta you, huh, baby?"

"Yeah," Bucky breathes. "Want you." Gripping the base of the plug, Steve pulls it out an inch before twisting it and pushing it back in. Steve's eyes flash at the way Bucky's body trembles, and he does it again. "Steve," Bucky warns. He's impatient. He wants Steve in him and he wants it now. "You don't hurry up, imma flip you over and do it myself." His boyfriend laughs, and Bucky can't help but think of how lucky he is—to have someone who will laugh with him during sex.

"Relax," Steve says, pulling the plug out slowly with one hand and slicking his dick with the other. Once the plug is free, Steve sets it next to the lube on the floor and slides in. Steve doesn't move for a few moments, so Bucky lifts his hips up. He needs this—to take his mind off of the inevitable fight on the horizon. 

"Steve, please," Bucky begs, fingernails digging into Steve's shoulders. The blond leans down for a kiss, and then begins to move. He sets a fast, hard pace that has Bucky on the edge in minutes. Then again, he's been close since Steve put the plug in. "M'close," he mumbles, pressing his face into Steve's collarbone and nipping gently at his neck. Steve gets a few more thrusts in before Bucky's coming—teeth digging into Steve's shoulder. 

Before Steve can move, Bucky has him on his back. Steve's eyes darken when Bucky kneels between his legs, sucking marks onto his inner thighs. Steve's dick is waiting for him and he swallows it down, taking it into his throat and swallowing before quickly working to get Steve off. He just wants Steve to feel good, to come knowing that it's Bucky who makes him feel like this.

"Buck," Steve says, warning him. Bucky loves the way Steve tastes—hot and salty and bitter—so he keeps going, suckling at the head while Steve comes.

Sometimes, Bucky thinks that the moments after sex are better than the actual sex. And this is one of those times. Where they cuddle up together and exchange lazy, tender kisses. Where Steve wraps Bucky up in his arms and holds him close so that Bucky can hear his heartbeat. These moments, where they're quiet and sated and happy. These moments are what Bucky lives for.

This is what he's fighting for.

-

1981

The Asset had been out of cryo for three hundred and thirty-six hours, forty-one minutes, and thirteen seconds. The Asset had been on mission for the last three hundred and thirty-six hours, two minutes, and six seconds. The Asset was now awaiting pick-up orders, sitting in one of HYDRA's safe houses.

There isn't much to do here, but the Asset doesn't mind. It doesn't have any hobbies, any things it likes to do. It isn't allowed to like things, to enjoy things. It isn't allowed to have warm emotions, only cold detachment and distain.

But right now, the Asset needs food and a sleep cycle. It goes to the small kitchen built in to the small house and finds one of it's nutrition packets. The Asset hates hooking up the IV just to get food, but it can't stomach solid food, so it does it.

The Asset sits in silence until the pack has all been forced into it's system, and then it sits in the corner and closes it's eyes. Maybe it will dream of the blond man again.

Maybe it will dream of it's memories.

- 

2015

After spending almost four months at the cabin—including Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years—Steve and Bucky are finally back at the Avengers Tower. Natasha has assured them that HYDRA has been taken care of, that no one will be coming after Bucky.

Bucky doesn't believe it.

There are hundreds of techs they didn't get, a handful of leaders that went into hiding. And those are the people to be afraid of—Alexander Pierce, Brock Rumlow especially. The ruthless ones, the ones that won't stop until they get their Asset back or they kill him.

So Bucky starts planning. He's not going to just sit around and wait for them to put together enough people to come after him.

He's been plotting with Tony, who he has sworn to secrecy. Steve can't know he's doing this. No one can. So he had Tony track their credit cards, their cell phones, their cars—anything that will lead Bucky straight to them.

After two weeks of looking, Tony comes to him with an address in Powhatan, Virginia just outside of Richmond. Two hours after that, Bucky gets ready to go. 

He was planning to leave without Steve seeing him, but of course as soon as Bucky walks into their floor, Steve comes in and slams the paper with the address on the table. His face is hard with anger, and Bucky goes completely tense.

"Tell me you're not about to do what I think you are," he says, and Bucky looks up at him.

"I can't do that," Bucky whispers.

"Then I'm coming with you," Steve says decisively, making like he's going to go to their room and pack. This is not good. This was not the plan. 

"I'm not leaving until tomorrow," Bucky lies quickly. Maybe Steve will believe him and he can slip out undetected.

"Okay," Steve says, face softening. "Thank you. If you have to do this, I don't want you to do it alone." Steve kisses him softly and Bucky's stomach churns. They don't lie to each other, and it makes Bucky almost sick that he's lying to Steve now.

"I'm gonna go to the gym with Natasha," Bucky says. "Wanna come?"

"I would, but I haven't slept in—" he looks at his watch and heaves a sigh. “—thirty-eight hours."

"You work too much," Bucky murmurs, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck. "Get some sleep." Bucky kisses Steve's jaw and shoves him toward the bedroom, blowing him a kiss, hoping that he's broken the tension. He turns and gets into the elevator, going back down into the gym.

Natasha is already stretching when he walks in, and she gives him one of her signature smirks.

"You get off?" she asks, and Bucky barks out a laugh. 

"I forgot to change, pervert," Bucky says back, plopping down and stretching with her. 

"Even better," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and stretching her right thigh.

Bucky spars with Natasha for almost three hours, working up a good sweat and a nice ache in his muscles before agreeing to meet her for dinner. When he gets back up to their floor, he goes to check on Steve in their room.

But when he opens the door, the bed is made. And empty. Steve's shield and uniform are gone from their place in the closet. There's a note on Bucky's pillow.

_If I can shield you from this, I will._

"Goddamn it, Steve!" he yells, shoving the note in his pocket and going to grab his duffle. He's going after Steve, and he's bringing Natasha with him.

They're going to finish this.

-

2002 

It had been years since HYDRA needed the Asset. Years since it had been chiselled out of the ice and put to use. There had been a power switch, and the Asset hadn't been brought out because the new leader was . . . apprehensive of what it was capable of.

The Asset found pleasure in that.

The Asset had no opinion on being loaned out to the Black Widow Program. It was to train the young initiates to be master assassins. That, the Asset was good at—killing people. Children, on the other hand, disgusted the Asset. They were too clumsy, too vulnerable.

But Natalia, the fiery redhead of the group, the one with bright green eyes and remarkable skills . . . this was one child the Asset did not mind training. She was quick-witted, intelligent, suspicious. She knew what was happening to her, what they were sculpting her into. She knew, and she wanted out. She wanted out, but there was no way out, so she excelled in the training.

The Asset enjoyed their training—sparring with her. Teaching her to block, how to snap someone's wrist away, how to get out of a choke hold. It taught her day after day how to be like it, how to move and doge and when to know she'd been bested. How to do better the next time.

For one year, one precious year, the Asset learned to be human again. To have emotions, to be happy, to be sad, to love. Because it loved Natalia like a sister, like a partner, like someone it needed to protect. It knew what they were going to do to her. It knew they were going to sterilise her. It knew they were making her into a monster, someone like it, and it hadn't wanted her to become a murderer.

The long, sleepless nights in it's room had been good for something. Thinking, plotting. Trying to find a way to get Natalia out. 

But there were none.

This life they'd had . . . they couldn't get out. They were murderers. They had red in their ledger and there was no coming back from that.

Natalia snuck into it's room often, only to curl up beside it and sleep. It realised that she probably had nightmares often, and it held her as close as possible, trying to shield her from the demons that she couldn't fight off herself. She was beautiful, and it had had the thought a few times that maybe they could be together, just for now, but something in the back of his mind always stopped him. It was there to protect her, to train her. And maybe it's training would get her out. 

So on the day that HYDRA took their Asset back, the Asset shared only one word with Natalia. The only word it had ever spoken to her.

" _Run_ ," it told her as they were taking it away. Her eyes lit up, her posture stiffening. It's voice was gruff and hoarse from a year of silence, but she had heard. And it dared to hope that she would get out.

One of them should. 

-

2015

"He left without you?" Natasha asks as she programs the address into the GPS. "Dick move." She doesn't so much as spare him a glance, but he knows she's trying to make him feel better. They left as soon as they could—taking a truck Natasha says she borrowed from SHIELD. 

"He thinks he can save me from this," Bucky mutters, gripping the steering wheel tighter as they merge onto I95. "He can't."

"Wouldn't hurt to let him try," Natasha replies, almost thoughtfully. Her feet are up on the dash, purple high-top sneakers clashing with the nice black interior of the truck.

"Hurt, no. It'll get him killed." There's silence for a long time, the two of them driving quietly other than the Def Leppord album Bucky has playing. He's furious with Steve, and with Natasha for defending him. How can they not see? This isn't going to end well. Either Steve will die, or he'll end up doing something he'll regret for the rest of his life.

Because this is kill or be killed and Steve is the sun—never to be tainted by darkness.

Not even Bucky's darkness.

Natasha sleeps for the next seven hours—something that makes Bucky think back to another lifetime. And since he has no desire to go back there and relive his days as the Asset, Bucky tries to call Steve again.

Voicemail.

"Steve, please listen to me. I love you, but you can't do this. Even if you kill them, it won't change anything. I'll never have faced them. You can't win this one for me, Stevie. It's something I need to do myself." He hangs up, hoping his message gets to Steve in enough time.

Bucky wakes Natasha up when they pull onto the road of the country-home the GPS led them to. It's about three tenths of a mile to the house from the car, so Bucky decides to keep the element of surprise and ditch the car far enough into the driveway to not be seen from the main road so they can walk from there. Natasha sits up and starts taking her outer clothing off, revealing her suit underneath. Bucky gets out of the car and slings his rifle over his shoulder, tucking knives into secret places. He pulls his gloves on and tucks a pistol into a sheath on his thigh.

"You sure this is the place?" Natasha asks, taking out a flashlight and shining up the dirt driveway. Bucky shrugs and they walk about a half a mile and Bucky spots Steve's bike.

"Yeah, this is the place," Bucky mutters, eyes flashing over the property. The house is totally dark save from a dim lamp in a downstairs window, and Bucky approaches the door, opening it as quietly as he can and holding it for Natasha. "Clear the upstairs," he tells her. "I'm going to find Steve." The redhead nods, takes out her pistol, and heads up the stairs.

Bucky stands in the doorway for a moment, taking in the silence of the house and trying to figure out what he's going to say to Steve when he finds him. But instead of dwelling on it, he clears the downstairs room by room.

It's completely silent in the house—no movement, no ragged breaths, no men pleading for their lives.

Steve worked quickly.

Bucky has a pretty good speech ready by the time he walks into the living room, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that awaits him.

Plastic tarps cover everything in the room. The furniture, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. There's a pair of shoes by the door—Steve had taken them off. Alexander Pierce is tied to a chair, head slumped and blood seeping from a hole in his chest. Dead. Steve must have finished him quickly. Bucky takes no notice, solely focused on the ravaged body on the floor. It's Brock Rumlow, Bucky knows that much. The man who had abused him, the man who had raped him repeatedly.

His ribs have been broken and are sticking out of his body blood-eagle style. Blood is all over the tarps—a pool of blood around the body, splatters over the plastic on the furniture. It gives Bucky a sick sense of pleasure, seeing his abuser laying dead on the plastic. Steve literally tore him apart with his bare hands.

How's that for revenge? 

Bucky looks at it for a few more moments, searing the image into his mind before looking away to find Steve.

He doesn't have to look far. Steve is in the downstairs master bathroom, rubbing his hands raw trying to get the blood off. Bucky steps into the light. There's blood all over Steve—his clothes, his hair, his face.

"Heya, Stevie," he says gently, approaching slowly. Steve either doesn't hear him, or ignores him as he moves to wash off his forearms. "Why don't we just shower, yeah?" Bucky asks, reaching out to stop the swift movement of his boyfriend's hands. Steve tries to shrug him off, but Bucky tightens his grip and pulls Steve's hands out from under the hot water. "Let's get you outta these clothes, okay?" And when Steve nods, Bucky starts taking Steve's suit off piece by piece. 

As he's taking off his own clothes, he throws them outside the door and texts Natasha to dispose of the clothing and the bodies. They need to get out of here by morning, leaving no trace that they were ever here. But Bucky needs to take care of Steve first. He locks the door and turns the water on—enough heat to begin fogging up the room.

"C'mon, baby," Bucky murmurs, taking hold of Steve's elbow and pulling him into the huge shower. The blood starts coming off, but Bucky soaps up his hands to rub the drier blood away. Steve just watches him the entire time, eyes dull. By the time Bucky gets to washing Steve's hair out, he can feel Steve crying. "Shh," he whispers, pulling Steve in close and holding him.

"Buck," Steve whimpers, the first thing he's said in all this time.

"Yeah, Stevie," Bucky soothes. "I'm right here." Bucky's breath catches when Steve shoves his face into Bucky's neck.

"I'm sorry," the blond breathes. "I'm so sorry." Bucky sighs and pulls Steve up straight to finish washing his hair.

"I know, Stevie," he replies. "I know. Let's just get you cleaned up and out of here, okay?" Steve nods miserably, and Bucky kisses his forehead.

By the time they're dried off and changed into the clothes Natasha had set outside the bathroom, she's almost done cleaning up the blood. Steve's shield is lying haphazardly against the wall, cleaned of blood, and Bucky goes to grab it, slipping it into the case so it won't be recognisable.

"Burning everything now," Natasha says. "Take him to a hotel and text me the address."

"Nat," Bucky tries to protest, but she cuts him off.

"Go. I'll catch up." Natasha smiles at him, and Bucky nods gratefully. 

"Where are your keys, baby?" Bucky asks quietly, and Steve nods at his shoes. Bucky grabs the keys before handing Steve the shoes to put on. 

They drive to the nearest decent-looking hotel and Bucky texts Natasha the address, checking them in and getting a two rooms that connect through a bathroom. He figures Natasha will want to check up on them when she gets here. 

Steve, on the other hand, has moved on from stoic and distant to clinging to Bucky every chance he gets. Eventually, Bucky just lays down beside him and holds him close, running a hand through his hair. He knows that nothing he says can make this better, but he also know Steve only did this for him.

And it makes him sick that Steve destroyed himself for Bucky.

"I'm okay," Steve says after a while. "I just . . . fell apart for a minute there." Of course, Bucky doesn't believe him, but he can feel Steve relaxing, and that's good enough.

"You shouldn't have gone without me," Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve's hair. "Should've waited for me. You didn't have to do it on your own." Steve turns to look at him, eyes flashing. 

"I wanted to."

"I know, but—"

"I wanted to make him pay for what he did to you," Steve continues, eyes flashing. "And I'm not sorry that I killed them. Just . . . didn't expect for it to happen the way it did. To get that out of control." Bucky's eyes widen. Steve has a mean streak and it almost always involved Bucky being hurt or threatened.

"Well, as long as you're okay . . ." Bucky doesn't want to just gloss over this like it never happened. Steve isn't a violent person until it comes to the people he loves, and Bucky never wanted Steve to go to war over him. But Steve has been warring with this since he woke up, and maybe now they can finally put Bucky's time as the Asset behind them. 

"It's over now," Steve tells him. "It's over. Without leadership, anyone left is going to scatter. We took out all of their higher-ups. I just . . . They deserved it, Buck." And it's almost like Steve is pleading with him to understand.

"I know they did," Bucky murmurs. "They would have been put on death row anyway. You just . . . sped that up a little." Bucky kisses him softly, and then pulls away to kiss his forehead. "You didn't have to, but I'm glad that they're gone."

"I love you," Steve whispers into the darkness. "I love you so much." He nuzzles into Bucky's neck and Bucky holds him tight. 

"I love you, too, Stevie," Bucky whispers back. "More than you know. We're gonna be okay, baby." And Bucky's daring to hope that Steve won't go to jail for this. Natasha knows what she's doing, so there shouldn't be any evidence left over.

Steve falls asleep quickly, his mind and body exhausted from what he had just done. Bucky holds him the whole time, never leaving his side. However, he does answer the questioning text messages from Natasha. Telling her Steve is okay, thank you for helping us, thank you for helping me. She doesn't text back, but Bucky knows she saw it. She's not good at accepting gratitude from other people. She's not good at emotions. And well, Bucky can't blame her. Where his emotions were magnified, hers were dulled.

They haven't spoken of their time together. It's another lifetime for both of them, and neither of them wants to relive it.

So instead of dwelling on it, Bucky busies himself measuring Steve's breathing. As of now, it's a little bit ragged, Steve twitching slightly in his arms. It makes Bucky a bit uneasy, but not enough to wake him. Steve needs as much sleep as he can get.

It's been four hours when Steve wakes up, and Bucky aches for him. He knows Steve is exhausted, and he also knows what it's like to have the nightmares. Because Steve wasn't fighting for his life when he killed Pierce and Rumlow. No, that was murder. Is it sick that Bucky is proud of Steve? Is it disgusting that Bucky is glad that Steve made Rumlow suffer before he killed him? Maybe. But he's not going to lie to himself or anyone else.

He doesn't need their approval. He has approval from the people he cares about—Steve, Natasha, the Avengers—he doesn't need any more than that.

"Buck?" Steve says, jarring Bucky out of his thoughts. "Bucky? I've said your name three times. Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Bucky says, pulling Steve close. "Just thinking." The blond nuzzles into Bucky embrace and settles back down.

"Mmm," he hums. "Okay. Love you." Smiling, Bucky presses a kiss to Steve's mouth before getting comfortable himself.

"Love you back, Stevie."

-

2008: Natasha Romaoff

It'd been so long since she'd seen Yasha, but she didn't forget about him. She never forgot the way that they dragged him away, that they probably made him forget her.

And she thought she would never see him again.

She'd heard rumours, of course, but she never knew they called him the Winter Soldier. She had only ever heard him called the Asset or _aktiv_ , never a name, not even an alias. And of course, he never told her. It was like he didn't remember it.

Which, truthfully, was one hundred percent possible.

Natasha knows, now. His name is James Buchanan Barnes and he was the best friend of Captain America. He fell off a train and HYDRA found him, making him a slave. She related to him on a lot of things, and she thought that maybe seeing her would help him. 

So while he was in his semi-isolation, she went to see him. The first time, it was like seeing a ghost, but she knew it would get better. Sometimes she would fall asleep in his room and wake up to find herself on the bed with James sitting on the floor. He seemed to light up a bit every time she walked in—same time every day. Consistency was key. It was what helped her.

He didn't speak for a very long time. He barely even moves when she visits. But one day, Natasha visited longer than normal. The reason being that James is sobbing hysterically and asking for Steve, the memories coming back in waves. She knows how it feels—a crushing weight on the brain, physical pain, and even thinking hurts.

James ingests the liquid pack of nutrients while Natasha told him stories about the Red Room. She told some stories with him, some without. Giving him a broad look at her life. And she didn't mind telling him things about herself. She knew he wouldn't tell anyone—who was there to tell? She didn't tell him anything important, anyway. She would never tell anyone about her aliases or her missions unless they were on mission with her.

After a while, she left. But that night stayed with her. The night when the Asset became James Barnes.

-

Natasha Romanoff: 2015

They seem happy, Steve and Bucky. They seem to also be very healthy, considering the whole murder-torture thing a few months ago. They're doing well, and Natasha is happy for them. They're getting married soon. Steve had pre-proposed a while ago, but now he's done it for real, and Natasha couldn't be happier for her friends.

She knew her life would never come with true love or a Prince Charming. She never wanted that. But James got his. James got Steve back and she's so happy she could burst.  She'll probably never get a happy ending, but she's okay with that. She's just glad that her Yasha got his.


End file.
